


Do You Wanna Grab Some Shawarma?

by truthtakestime



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Banter, Friendship, Gen, Shawarma, Snark, Team Bonding, Team as Family, but it's fine, from the archives, i mean this is old guys, kind of a tag to the first avengers film and to winter soldier, like so many years old, sharing food
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-20
Updated: 2020-03-20
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:28:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23223292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/truthtakestime/pseuds/truthtakestime
Summary: Natasha scares Tony, Tony doesn't offend Steve, Jarvis is a saint, Bruce has crazy friends, and Sam Wilson gets adopted. Also, shawarma.
Kudos: 8





	Do You Wanna Grab Some Shawarma?

**Author's Note:**

> Oh gosh, this is old enough that I can't recall exactly when I wrote it. I don't know what was wrong with me back in the day where I just wrote things and then never did anything with them. 
> 
> I know it's kind of obsolete now, but I still really like this one in particular. Team bonding and banter is my jam. I will never stop loving these beautiful fools.

“Hey, Jarvis, who's in town this weekend that I might want to harass?”

The AI gave a slightly electronic sigh at Stark's choice of wording. What Tony _really_ meant, of course, was that he was lonely and bored with Pepper away on business. He wanted to hang out with the Avengers instead of sitting alone in his workshop building obstacle courses for Dummy and You. But he would never just _say_ that. 

“I believe Dr. Banner is giving a lecture on particle physics for one of the universities tonight, and Captain Rogers has just returned from a covert mission with Senior Airman Wilson. Also – ” 

“Ah, so Ice Pop is stepping out on us again, huh?” Tony interrupted. “We'll see about _that_...” He reached for his phone and started tapping out a profanity-laden text utterly bereft of lowercase letters. “Jarvis, make a reservation for that shawarma place I like. Tell them to make extra of everything.” 

“Excuse me, Sir – ?”

“Is my reservation made yet? No? Why are you talking if my reservation isn't made yet?” 

“But Sir – ”

“Jarvis, a man needs his shawarma!” 

“You can't send that message to Rogers, Tony. You'll break him!” 

Tony was sure he leaped almost high enough to touch the ceiling. He turned around to see Natasha shaking her head at him, leaning on the back of the couch he'd been lounging on. “Jarvis!” he yelped, his voice a few octaves higher than was manly. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Why didn't you tell me she was in town? No, wait, forget about that one. Why didn't you tell me she was _in my house_?”

“I attempted to inform you, Sir, but you were otherwise occupied.” 

“I ran into Pepper in London, she told me you were probably lonely and that I should “come here and make sure you're staying out of trouble”.”

Tony snorted. “As if.”

“You can't send that text to Steve,” Natasha repeated, snatching the phone out of Tony's hand and ignoring his indignant squawk. He lunged over the back of the couch, but she dodged him absently and deleted the text. “He can barely say “damn” without flinching; he's not ready for these words.”

“He was in the military, he has to have heard it all before.”

“It was the 1940's, Tony,” Natasha reminded him. She considered the message she'd typed instead – all proper grammar and no swearing and want to grab some shawarma tonight? – and hit send before returning the phone to Stark. He glared at her. “People were _good_ back then.” 

“Oh please. My _father_ was alive back then.” 

She considered that for a second. “Most people were good, then.” 

“Completely unlike today, where there are fiends like you.” He continued to glare, but Natasha merely raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms. Tony sighed. “Hey, so you want to grab shawarma tonight?”

-

In the end, there were five of them at dinner; Jarvis took the liberty of extending the invitation to Sam Wilson, as well. Which Tony took as an opportunity to give him crap.

“...And so you just _steal_ him away from us, just like that? Without an invite for the rest of us to join in? Rude, Wilson. Rude. I don't think I like you.” 

“Hey, I bring him back like new! And we were only gone for like, a day this time.”

“What about DC?” Tony pointed out. “You stole him!” 

“Technically, I was invited,” Natasha pointed out, reaching across the table to steal a scoop of hummus off of Tony's plate. She ignored his halfhearted attempt to shove her fork away. 

“Um, I am a person who makes my own decisions, you know,” Steve muttered. “It's not like I'm a toy you're fighting over.” 

“That's what you think,” Bruce sighed, scraping half of his turnips onto Tony's plate. “Between him and Fury, I've barely got a life of my own.” 

“Hey, meditation and yoga is not a life of your own!” Tony corrected, waving his half stuffed pita at the scientist. “I'm helping you, I hope you realize that. Hey, Wilson!” he snapped distractedly at Sam. In response, he received an innocent blink. Undeterred, Tony shook the pita at him. “Hands off my tabouli.”

“Your tabouli?” Sam raised an eyebrow. “I thought this was a sharing thing. Did everyone else not just steal something off of someone else's plate?” 

“You don't touch Tony's tabouli,” Steve informed his friend, shaking his head solemnly. Around the table, the others stuffed their mouths or looked down at their plates. Except for Tony. He stared with open amusement at the exchange as Steve continued, “Everything else, pretty much, we share. Except Nat, who will take all the amba sauce if you're not careful.” 

The lady in question gave a delicate shrug and licked her fork. “I like mangoes.” 

“Anyways, if you want tabouli, you order your own, or you don't get any. Or you get horrible pranks played on you for weeks to come. Believe me, I know from experience.” He shuddered.

Later, Sam would probably coerce his friend into telling him the full story behind _that_ statement; but for now there was really only one thing he seemed concerned with. “So… I _can_ steal everyone else's food?” he asked cautiously. 

Bruce rolled his eyes. “You might as well. Everyone else will.” 

“In that case, I'm taking some of Tony's tabouli, and he can go ahead and suck it.” 

A sort of laughter came from Bruce's end of the table, and Tony was turning a rather interesting shade of purple. Steve laughed. “I think he actually likes you more now.” 

“He definitely does,” Natasha nodded, spooning some of her coveted amba sauce over Sam's meal. “The way to Tony's heart is to be just as much of a jackass as he is. And shawarma.” 

“I'm still mad he keeps stealing Sergeant Patriotism,” Tony grumbled around a mouthful of tabouli. “But I guess he'll do.” 

“Oh, joy, I've been adopted.”

“Don't worry, I'm sure it's just the shawarma talking.” 

“Oh, yeah,” Bruce nodded. “He likes you.”


End file.
